


you go to heaven (once you've been to hell)

by theholyjuggernaut



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Sam Winchester POV, late night confessions at the bunker, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholyjuggernaut/pseuds/theholyjuggernaut
Summary: Sam overhears a late-night conversation between Dean and Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 147





	you go to heaven (once you've been to hell)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man...that new episode hit me hard. It also made me feel really lonely. So here's how I cope with that.

Sam wakes to the drone of muffled conversation outside his door. Two soft voices–a gentle hum–beckon him toward the bunker kitchen. He rubs his eyes, idly urging the post-nap ignorance to stay for a moment longer. As he steps out of bed, the persistent ache that normally presses against his chest is nonexistent. As usual, he comes to his senses, and everything floods back into his mind. It starts with Mary, twisting on the ceiling as flames wrap around her form. It ends somewhere between Chuck showing him the future, and the ghostly warmth of Eileen’s fingers pressing against his cheek.

They will find another way, just like Dean said. Despite his determination, Sam finds himself disheartened at the thought of stopping Chuck, not because of what he would do, but what a godless world would come to. The future was full of violence and misery, things Sam was never shy of in his life. But at some point in Chuck’s visions, it would cross an invisible line–one Sam is wary to believe exists–compelling even his stubborn, brave older brother to raise his white flag. He hopes the tired look in future Dean’s eyes fades from his mind by morning. He should never look so defeated, so overcome with the pains of life to accept loss without a fight. 

As Sam quietly approaches the kitchen, the voices become less muted. The bunker is dark, and there are only a few lamps flickering warmly. Dean and Cas speak in hushed tones, but the younger Winchester knows it isn’t out of secrecy. This is different–it’s something that makes Sam feel like an outsider. And he understands that the conversation across the room is not his own. Regardless, his curiosity betrays his morals, and Sam purposefully approaches out of eyeshot. It isn’t new, the tension between the angel and his brother, so the fact that they’re actually talking to each other is more comforting that Sam would ever admit. 

“...and none of this is your fault, Dean,” says a gravelly voice. Sam stays as still as possible, the feeling of wrongness amplifying tenfold.  _ I shouldn’t be here _ , he thinks,  _ this is something private. _ Another part of his brain says,  _ But it isn’t really my fault they’re out in the open like this _ . It is so silent in the bunker; if he leaves now, they definitely will hear him. He doesn’t think they’d be upset with him, but Sam doubts Dean wants him listening in on anything intimate. That thought amuses him, almost, since his brother firmly guards anything related to his emotions. Dean locks them away, enclosing everything in a wall of anger and fabricated apathy. He guesses that was what happened with Cas, but their relationship was always complicated, to say the least. 

Sam accepts the fact that he’ll never know exactly what’s going on in their heads, and stopped trying to understand a long time ago. The hunter trusts they’ll eventually sort their problems out on their own, but he takes any opportunity to nudge them in the right direction if given. Nevertheless, the recent fight between them was different, it wasn’t their typical bickering, and two weeks passed before Sam realized Cas wasn’t coming back. Dean refused to tell him much, but from what he could infer, they had a falling out of sorts. Which is absurd, in his opinion, since Dean would go to hell and back for Cas. And a part of Sam believes there isn’t anything that could make his brother hate their friend so badly to completely cut him off. He’d come back to Cas, just like he always did, just like he always would. 

The murmur resumes, the shadows shift slightly, and Dean speaks. 

“I can’t do that again, Cas.” Sam hears his brother exhale–a breathless laugh–and he instantly knows it’s what Dean defaults to when a statement feels too uncomfortably genuine. It used to annoy him, but right now Dean sounds so woebegone that Sam can’t stop the pang of empathy that shoots through his chest. “I–I won’t lose you again–especially when it’s my own damn fault.”

“I know,” comes a thoughtful whisper, and Sam can almost imagine the heartrending curve of Cas’ eyes as he gazes up at Dean. The familiar upturn of his lips that bleeds forgiveness. And Sam isn’t sure he or Dean deserve any of it, but regardless, Cas is one of the few people who understand them. There is a certain irony in it, that out of the thousands of supernatural beings in heaven, their clemency is granted by a fallen angel. 

“I should have told you, but I keep messing up–” Dean cuts himself off, sniffling, “–and I can’t stop.” Sam strains his ears, the two voices flickering quietly like the dim kitchen lights above them. 

“Dean,” Cas says firmly, the way he speaks when he wants his brother’s attention. Each and every time, whether he wants to or not, Dean fixedly grasps for the words that come next. Sam listens to the shuffle of fabric as Cas leans forward, forcing his way into Dean’s desperate stare. He smiles lightly and says, “I forgive you.” 

There is a silence, heavy and rich, teeming with  _ something _ that Sam can’t quite place. Dean tucks his head down, shoulders quivering. “I don’t deserve that.”

Cas shifts, his smile growing ever so slightly. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. So I guess you’re stuck with me.” 

“Good,” Dean replies resolutely, locking eyes with the angel. That’s a promise. Cas is stuck with them; they are stuck with Cas, and to hell with God if he’s going to try and tear them apart. He’s not going to push their friend away again, and aside, the younger Winchester smiles to himself. Finally. 

“There’s,” Dean clears his throat, “there’s something else I want to say, Cas.” 

Sam peeks into the room, curiosity still brimming. The men sit at the kitchen table, two bottles of El Sol forgotten on the counter. Dean clenches his jaw, afraid, but dead set on speaking his mind. He glances down at the table, then farther, at Cas’ hands across from his. Swallowing roughly, he slides an arm forward. Dean’s chest rises slowly as his fingers tentatively brush Cas’ knuckles. His eyes reach the angel’s, an ocean of longing and repentance, swimming with unuttered words. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, hope seeping into his voice. As if he’s about to break an ever-present barrier, the one that was constructed the day they met, but wants to be certain it won’t collapse on top of them. Dean pulls his hand away swiftly, still settled near Cas’ on the table, but no longer touching. His eyes return to the mahogany. 

“Sorry.” 

Cas sighs, almost noiseless, as his mouth twists dotingly. A moment passes, and he playfully taps Dean’s hand with his index finger. Dean’s face flushes, wrinkles pinching around his eyes. Cas drums his fingers on the back of his hand. Like he’d been holding it back his entire life, a wide smile crosses the angel’s face. He exhales through his nose, laughter rising upward. Dean stares at him incredulously, the tightness in his shoulders loosening. 

“You–you…” he says breathlessly, “I can’t believe you.” 

Cas shuts his eyes, gripping the hunter’s hand, as a high-pitched laugh escapes his throat. 

“Did you seriously just  _ giggle _ ?” Dean asks, grinning hopelessly. 

Sam feels himself smile, looking fondly at the two men at the table as they intertwine their hands. He steps back from the wall and turns to leave. The echoes of laughter follow him back to his bed, and Sam falls asleep, his heart a little bit lighter than before. At least something good came from all of this. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let's just forget about Cas' deal with The Empty for now. I can bask in that lovely pool of angst later. Hope you all like this. Leave a comment if you're vibing after that episode.


End file.
